_A Writer Of Eclogues._

Non Licida, nè Driope.

Lycoris, Lycidas, and Dryope Cannot, dear Niblo, save thy name from death; Shadows that fleet, and flowers that yield their breath, Match not the Love that craves infinity. The beauty thou dost worship dwells in thee: Within thy soul divine it harboureth: This also bids my spirit soar, and saith Words that unsphere for me heaven's harmony. Make then thine inborn lustre beam and shine With love of goodness; goodness cannot fail: From God alone let praise immense be thine. My soul is tired of telling o'er the tale With men: she calls on thine: she bids thee go Into God's school with tablets white as snow.

LVI.